SGAus: Regression
by jones2000
Summary: Sequel to Stargate: Australia. Blue has just been given a new mission. To head up the IOA's new division alongside Dr McKay. It all goes swimmingly until her best friend is murdered, her father reveals a secret, and a teenage genius calls for a truce.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Finally, the sequel to Stargate Australia is alive, **_**allliive! **_

**If I can keep you interested long enough, you'll find out why the title's been changed to Regression. All I can say is that it's to do with Max and the Ascended.**

**

* * *

**

* * *

Blue was cold.

She was numb as she stared at the long wooden box. Someone was sobbing somewhere beside her, but her eyes were dry. In a way, she had always known that it would come to this. There seemed to be a strange empty hole in her stomach as she watched them lower the box into the ground.

_Harold Parker Evans. Beloved son. Dear friend._ There was nothing of Harry. Nothing of ASIO and spies and government conspiracies, and there never would be. Only a secret, never to be revealed.

Harry had died for his country, and no one would ever know.

"Are you alright?"

Blue's dad gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and she knew that he wished he could sweep her up in his arms like she was still his little girl and tell her that everything would be alright.

She didn't answer right away. "I will be."

He gave a small sigh. "Are you coming to the wake?"

"Having a party because someone's died doesn't really sit well with me."

"That's not the point." He said. "The point is that we're celebrating the life of someone who was... a really... great bloke."

"Nice hesitation there, Dad, really appreciated." Blue rolled her eyes. "I just... most of these people here he never even met. Someone dies, and all the cockroaches come out of the woodwork."

"Do you want a lift somewhere?"

"I think I'll just walk home." She gave her father a strained smile and squeezed his hand, and walked away.

The Jones family house had hardly changed in the time she had been away. There was still the same smell of books, the same pillows on the lounges, and the same faint smell of her father's gunpowder. She'd almost asked about the gunpowder several times over the years, but came to the conclusion that she really didn't want to know.

Rhys Jones wasn't the typical retiring 65-year-old.

Walking into the open-plan lounge room, she pulled off her long green scarf that had been the only splash of colour against the sea of black, and threw her black jacket over the back of the lounge. The feeling beginning to return to her extremities, she sat down in a recliner in front of the television.

Blue stared at it blankly for several minutes, willing herself to feel something besides the dull empty ache. He was her best friend, but she couldn't cry.

All the while, there was still a poisonous little voice whispering in the back of her mind. _I'm glad it wasn't me._

_I'm glad it wasn't me._

Just then, someone pounded on the door, loud enough to shake Blue from her reverie. Her head swivelled around to the door, and on autopilot, she rose to answer it. If it was someone else saying how sorry they were, Blue was going to smack them in the mouth. God only knew how Harry's mother Millie was coping with it.

The door cracked open. "Lieutenant Jones?"

There was a boy standing on the doorstep. He was maybe nineteen or twenty, with blonde cropped curly hair. "You don't recognise me, do you?" He frowned at her expression.

Blue narrowed her eyes. As she contemplated him, she was suddenly struck with a vision of a kid two feet shorter with baby fat.

"You're that RAI boy..."

"Yes! Yes I am."

"What the hell do you want?"

"I... need your help."

* * *

TWO DAYS PREVIOUSLY

* * *

After being deployed on Atlantis for the sum total of five years, Lt. Clementine Jones had been beginning to think that the whole stigma of being attached to the International Oversight Advisory might have been a convenient lie to lean on when the personnel of the collective Stargate programs didn't like the orders that were being handed down.

She was soon to find out that it wasn't.

In fact, being shafted sideways into a consulting job at the IOA meant that most of the time she wasn't doing much of anything at all apart from pissing off the people she used to work with.

Blue had worked in military offices when she was eighteen and nineteen, but the IOA had pretty much eliminated any similarities with the Stargate Program or the US Air Force to imbue their offices with the feeling that the SGC was somehow reporting to _them_. Even though the offices were open-plan, and there was hardly a closed door anywhere, that didn't mean it was any less regimented.

The first official communication Blue received was about the _dress code_, believe it or not. Battle fatigues were considered inappropriate, as was a formal military uniform. Instead, Blue was required to wear black pressed pants or a pencil skirt, a clean, pressed blouse, a tailored jacket, stockings and heels.

_All our employees must be clean-cut and convey a professional vibe, _the human resources officer informed her matter-of-factly. _No slouching in a conference call, no face-pulling, especially if we are in negotiations with a foreign dignitary, all coffee cups must be washed and dried and placed back in the cupboard, if we catch you reappropriating stationery, we will be forced to penalise you..._

Good God!

So Blue turned up for her first day, teetering on the heels she hadn't worn for about four years now, product in her hair and lipstick on, feeling as though she was the new kid at school and everyone would laugh at the way she said 'chips' instead of 'fries', or trying for a job knowing beforehand that all the interviewer really wanted was big boobs and a firm butt.

She walked into the building, providing the appropriate identification to the doorman, and was almost past the administration desk when someone called out her name.

"Lieutenant Jones!"

Blue turned, wondering who in this vast building filled with diplomats would know her name.

"Mr Woolsey," She was moderately pleased at his presence. At least there was _someone _here she might have some sort of a rapport with. He offered her his hand, which Blue shook.

"Just Richard will do, now that we're on the same footing."

"Richard." She said, trying out the name. "Call me Blue. Everybody else seems to." Richard Woolsey gave a polite smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "D'you often come down to personally welcome people?"

"I actually have a proposition I wish to discuss with you." He had her file in his hand, and Blue frowned slightly. He held out a hand. "Shall we go to my office?"

"Lead the way."

Once the door was closed firmly behind them, Richard settled into a leather chair behind his desk, and motioned for Blue to take a seat. As she shuffled around, trying to find a comfortable position on the much-harder seat, Mr Woolsey opened her file.

"I see that a desk job in the IOA wasn't exactly what you were after when you left the SGC." He said, matter-of-factly.

"Not exactly, sir." Blue said. "What exactly is this 'proposition'?"

Richard chuckled a little to himself. "No need stalling, I see." He leant toward her and steepled his fingers. "As you may be aware, only recently the IOA has elected to start up a Field Operations Division based here on Earth. From reading your file, I assume that sitting at a desk for the rest of your career holds little appeal to you. However, it will take some time to get the initiative off the ground."

"Are you asking me to join this Field Operations Division?" Blue narrowed her eyes.

"Not exactly." Woolsey's gaze was sharp and he held her in a stare over the desk. "I, we at the IOA want you to act as the de-facto leader of the Division until we get the initiative up and running efficiently."

_You what?_ "You want me to _lead_?"Cue incidental music now. "Sir, I'm hardly qualified. I'm only a lieutenant."

"Ah, but what exactly _is _qualified in our line of work?" Woolsey asked philosophically. He shuffled some papers in front of him. "And as for the 'lieutenant' business, that's easy enough to sort out."

"But _why me_?" Blue had been asking that for years now. No one ever seemed to be able to answer her satisfactorily. "Sir, there _must_ be higher ranking people than me in this organisation. People with more experience in the field and at the negotiation table."

Woolsey gave a small nod of his head. "You served on Atlantis for five years, battling an array of creatures I can only image at. How much more experience is necessary?"

Blue immediately thought of SG1. Ten years on, and they were still going up against aliens the likes of which had never been seen before in this galaxy.

"Have all the representatives agreed to this?" She asked curiously.

"I brought the issue to the table myself." Richard said. "There was no contest. You were the most eligible contender for this mission, coming straight from a prolonged term on Atlantis, on good terms with those you served with, up to date with current security and diplomatic protocols. You simply stood out head and shoulders over the crowd..." He trailed off. Blue _knew_ she was seen as just another faceless soldier to the authorities that governed the Stargate, so it was obvious that there was something more going on here.

"And not American?" She added.

Woolsey's shoulders slumped slightly. "Actually, yes." He confessed. Blue nodded. The foreign representatives to the IOA always seemed slightly perturbed that the most powerful weapons and initiatives were immediately entrusted into American hands. "Of course, China would rather have a Chinese department head, Russia would rather have a Russian, and so forth, but they reached an agreement that you would be a sufficient compromise."

_Well, that's something I've never been called before._

"What would this position entail?" Blue asked curiously.

"Well, if I may talk shop, you would be acting in the Division in a similar manner that Colonel Carter, Dr Weir and myself adopted while on Atlantis." He said. "And thus those others assigned to the Division will report to you. You will have a certain amount of leeway when it comes to choosing your staff, but there will be some personnel that the IOA will assign or consultants that the SGC recommend. And if one of your people breaks the rules, as it were..."

"I'm the one the IOA is going to see."

"Yes. You and your staff will be able to request information and technology from the SGC, Area 51, and the main body of the IOA. The representatives require monthly progress reports, and you will have a direct line to the Department of Homeworld Security."

Blue sat back in her chair. Woolsey looked at her expectantly. "I know this is a lot to take on in such a short time, but-"

"When do I start?"

He smiled. "It's time to get to work."

At this time, the Field Operations Division was operating out of the IOA equivalent of their dad's back shed. All the equipment that the IOA was sending them off with was sealed in wooden crates, prepared to be shifted to their new home, a massive cement building close to the beach with several levels of underground bunkers. It took Blue a moment to recognise him without his Atlantis uniform.

There was a man in the room, doing a final inventory of the equipment. He turned to them as they entered.

"Ah! I was just making sure we didn't miss anything. You know how it's like when you move, there's always something left behind. Or maybe that's just me?"

His eyes crossed from Woolsey and onto Blue.

"Doctor McKay, this is Lieutenant Clementine Jones." Richard introduced her. Blue felt like she had walked into a room where the people had been talking about her only moments before. Rodney McKay squinted at her a minute, trying to place her.

"Lieutenant, Dr McKay. The doctor has signed up to the Division as a scientific advisor."

"We've met." Blue said flatly as she shook the Canadian's hand.

"Have we? I'm sorry, I've got a terrible memory for foreigners." Tactful. Unconsciously, her grip tightened on his fingers.

"We worked together. For five years. You once called me an uneducated outback hick."

"As I was saying." Woolsey interrupted. "Dr, the IOA have elected Lieutenant Jones as the new head of the Field Operations Division."

"Oh. Oh! Nice to meet you," McKay's attitude suddenly became decidedly more attentive and optimistic. Probably because he knew Blue had the power to dismiss him from his post. "Perhaps you'd like to do a run-through of our assigned equipment and the personnel that have been assigned to the Division." He pressed his electronic clipboard into Blue's hands. "Just press there, and there-"

A list of names flashed up. Rodney put his hands on his hips as she scanned down, hoping for a familiar name to spring out at her.

None did. They were all entirely new people.

Rodney rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment. "Looks like you and I are going to be the senior members of this expedition, eh?"


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days involved memorising as many names as humanly possible, making the final decisions on who was going to have offices where, and unwrapping an insane amount of plastic from around various equipment.

Instead of being left to decompose in the vaults of Area 51 or left to vanish into obscurity in the inner sanctum of the IOA, many unclassified devices had been packed up to join the new members of the Field Operations Division. Blue recognised many artefacts from Atlantis itself, and there were other dangerous-looking contraptions from the SGC that defied classification.

If they were weapons that could be used for Earth protection, it was the Field Division's job to make them work again.

Rodney McKay was like a kid in a candy store as he tore into the cling-wrap with an enthusiasm that Blue had rarely seen him display. Even though he thought that he was too dignified to display it, this new venture excited him. Several times now he had engaged her in non-hostile banter and had spoken to his fellow scientists without ending the conversation with 'asinine morons', or a phrase along the same vein.

After the initial moment of excitement, however, things swiftly sank into a routine. The scientists generally clustered together and made snide comments while the several ex-SGC members in Blue's chosen staff weren't shy about displaying their distaste about working alongside IOA agents. Several times now, she had been required to step into an argument that was on the verge of turning into something else.

Frankly, this clash of the egos was a pain in the ass. Everyone thought they were better than everyone else, and, really, she needed to figure out some way to sort them out before she just shot someone.

More and more artefacts were being shipped directly from the SGC instead of mouldering away in Area 51. Blue was getting used to the IOA making snap decisions to tour the new facility, and once or twice agents from the Department of Homeworld Security had actually turned up to take a look around.

A lot of the time, she was stuck sitting at her desk, staring unseeingly at some alien transcript on her computer screen, tapping her fingers on the phone that would allow her to immediately reach Brigadier General Jack O'Neill if a situation arose.

Rodney was in the office directly opposite hers, and had developed an annoying habit of bursting theatrically through the door, announcing that he had made a spectacular discovery. Since there was no Colonel Sheppard or Doctor Zelenka around, Blue had come to the conclusion that McKay was doing it deliberately.

All in all, everything was going more smoothly than she expected.

So something was bound to happen pretty soon to turn it all up sideways.

Blue had just cracked open the cover of the newest bestseller when a message came through on her earpiece. It was McKay, and apparently General Landry was out the front and asking to see her immediately.

Rodney looked as suspicious as she felt when she joined him, the General, and a couple of Air Force offsiders in the briefing room.

"Lieutenant." Landry greeted her pleasantly with a benign half-smile that immediately set her on edge. He offered her his hand. She exchanged cursory nods with the General's aides.

"General Landry." It took all her willpower not to snap to a salute, and shake his hand instead.

"I'm afraid this isn't what you would call a social visit."

"I said that when I was told you were here, sir."

"She really did." McKay rubbed the back of his neck, as if the presence of so many armed airmen was physically irritating him.

"I have a proposition for you."

Blue barely battered an eyelid. Every time someone said something like that to her, she either seemed to end up in a shiny new office, or locked in an alien deathmatch.

"How would you and your team like to tag along on a reconnaissance mission to P5X-834?"

"The pigmy people planet?" Rodney demanded almost at once. "But they're so... primitive."

Landry raised an eyebrow. "But the technology Doctor Jackson has uncovered isn't. And the people of the planet have given us permission to explore the site."

"Excuse me for being blunt, but isn't that kind of _your_ job?"

The General gave a patient smile.

"If you are as intelligent as I have been led to believe, Doctor, then you undoubtedly know that the SGC functions primarily to identify possible military threats to Earth. This site requires extensive research, and as much as Doctor Jackson insists that he should be the one responsible, I am unable to spare my people for any prolonged period of time."

"What's so important about this site?" Blue asked slowly.

General Landry smiled at her, glad that someone was finally asking the right questions.

* * *

It felt better than she thought it would to be back in the fatigues, even though she had a different badge on her jacket.

Blue had forced McKay to choose several of the best scientists in the Field Division to accompany them, and along with two of her personal staff who were coming along to do the heavy lifting; the team arrived in the Cheyenne Mountain complex to be escorted to the planet.

Rodney cast Blue several strange looks as she easily swapped conversation with the SGC personnel. For her, it wasn't hard to fall back into this routine. She had known many of these people for a long time.

Sunlight glinted at her off someone's brass-rimmed glasses, and she recognised Doctor Jackson striding toward them. Following a few steps behind was a woman with dark hair pulled back by two shiny pins. Blue pulled off her cap and smoothed her shorn curls.

"Doctor Jackson."

"Lieutenant Jones." His larger hand wrapped around her own and they shook briefly. "It's good that you managed to get here so quickly."

"Well, it's really not like we had much of a choice." Blue cocked her head, and Daniel smiled briefly. Beside him, the dark-haired woman cleared her throat, as if reminding him that she was still there.

"Oh, and this is Vala Mal Doran." He said quickly, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

"Ah." Blue had heard of the woman, but had never really met her before. The thief with a heart of gold.

"Nice to meet you."

Before Blue could reply, Doctor Jackson hooked a hand beneath her elbow and guided her across the rocky ground. She motioned the rest of her team to follow. Rodney McKay fought to keep pace with her and Dr Jackson, puffing under the load strapped to his back.

The surface was dry and barren, extremely different to the lush, green planets she had so often frequented when a member of the SGC. Here and there, there were scatterings of low mud huts. The native people milled around, their skin almost as brown as the dirt, their bodies adorned with bright swirls of paint and feathers woven into their hair. The tallest of them barely made it to her waist.

The SGC had set up base camp in the ruins itself, and as they walked, Doctor Jackson quickly outlined the situation to the Field Division. Though he did not come over as particularly hostile, Blue could tell that he'd much rather handle this situation himself than trust it into IOA hands.

"From my preliminaries, the ruins appear to be the remains of some sort of Ancient manufacturing laboratory."

"Commercial?" Blue frowned.

Jackson nodded slightly. "There is evidence that there was an assembly line due north." He pointed.

"Any idea what they were manufacturing?"

"At first glance, I would guess this facility was originally intended for the design and manufacture of various spacecraft." Blue's head snapped around. It was a young woman that had spoken. She was wearing goggles and gloves, and her dark hair hung to just below her ears. Blue detected a hint of an accent.

She dusted herself off and Jackson offered her a hand to help her climb to her feet.

She ignored it.

"This is, ah, Doctor Katherine Stark. Dr Stark, Lieutenant Jones."

Stark nodded briskly. "Pleasure." She said flatly, before turning away and immediately dismissing Blue's presence.

Blue was immediately hit with the notion of a female Rodney McKay.

"She's on loan from Area 51." Vala Mal Doran whispered to Blue behind her hand. "So she's a little stale."

Jackson gave her a disapproving look.

"Doctor Stark has volunteered to stay behind and help your team with the evaluation."

"Don't you trust us, Doctor Jackson?" Blue asked innocently. The doctor gave her a thin smile. The SGC teams were practically packed and ready to pass the site to the IOA. She turned back to face her team. "Alright, people. This is where we take over."

The handover to Blue's team happened moderately smoothly. Dr Stark remained working, steadfastly ignoring everybody else. Blue signed her intentions quickly to her men, and with a hand on her holster, she proceeded to mooch around the site.

The little brightly painted people smiled brightly at her as she passed by, but none of them would approach the ruins. If a shadow threatened to fall across them, they would spring quickly out of the way. Blue wondered what sort of superstitions had become associated with this place, this sad relic.

The harsh winds and sands that had whipped across the dusty landscape had polished what was left of the metal structure so it shone brightly, reflecting back the landscape almost like a mirror.

Blue peered at her reflection in one of the distorted panels. She pinched the bags under her eyes and wrinkled her nose.

Something crunched underneath her boot. Blue cautiously moved her foot and crouched down, brushing aside the dirt. Finding an edge of the small device, Blue dug her hand beneath it and pulled it out of the ground.

The small device was caked with mud, but still winked brightly in the sun. It seemed to be made from a translucent blue crystal, and when angled toward the sun, she could make out the individual lines of circuitry underneath the surface.

"Lieutenant Jones!" Rodney called. Blue straightened up, her knees creaking, and absently tucked the chip into her jacket pocket.

Rodney was rocking backwards and forwards, his _eureka! _face on. When he saw her coming, he motioned for Blue to follow him before disappearing back into the bowels of the complex.

He stared talking before Blue even opened her mouth to ask what was wrong.

"I've just been going through Doctor Jackson's research." He began. "Doctor Stark confided in me that she believed Jackson had been a little premature in labelling this site as an Ancient construction."

"It isn't?" Blue asked. The surviving architecture seemed to be of an almost identical design and the writing on the walls was familiar, if slightly distorted.

"No." Rodney waggled a finger. "Re-examination of the artefacts has revealed that the components that first appeared of Ancient design are, in fact, the cannibalised remains of scavenged or seized technology wired into less advanced devices and ships."

He looked impossibly gleeful. "This is serious, Dr McKay." She said sharply. "What if these scavengers-"

"Pirates." He corrected. "It's actually written on the wall, there."

"Pirates. What's the likelihood of them coming back and not liking us pawing through their stuff?"

"From what records we can find, this facility has been empty for around a million years or so." McKay said. "And besides, even if there _was _something valuable still here, I doubt very much that they'd risk their lives to come back here."

"You're sure about that."

Rodney pointed at one of the metal walls. "You see those scorch marks? You see that the projectile has scored a zigzag pattern in the walls upon impact?" Blue lightly ran her fingers down the wall. She could feel her fingers catching in the little indentations.

"What is it?"

"That's the rather unique signature of an Ancient drone weapon."

"So the Ancients blew the pirates up?" She demanded.

"You sound surprised." Rodney deadpanned. "But I haven't got to the best bit yet."

"There's a best bit?"

He caressed the scorch marks. "This damage is recent."

"How recent?"

"At a guess, maybe fifty to a hundred years old."

Her hand fell to her side. "But that's impossible."

"There are two equally ludicrous explanations I can think of." McKay weighed them up in his hands. "Either a _very_ important piece of Ancient technology has been discovered by a vaguely humanoid race that _just happens _to have the activation gene, or..."

"We've still got Ancients."

It came out as almost a growl. Blue never quite figured out whether to worship the ground the Ancients walked on, or loathe them for their irresponsible, sadistic, and arrogant ways.

Rodney nodded sharply. "And if it _is _the latter, it begs the question. Why would modern Ancients bother to destroy a scavenger-run manufacturing facility that was in operation over a million years ago?"

"_Ma'am?"_ One of the airmen on the Gate spoke over her earpiece. _"The SGC is waiting for you to do your check-in."_

The MALP was still sitting in front of the Stargate, and on the little screen showing a live feed from Earth, Blue was quite surprised to see the face of Colonel Sheppard. Normally the check-ins were run by lesser SGC staff.

John took his boots off the desk in front of him as he saw McKay and Blue clamber over the rocks.

"_I don't think I envy you, Jones."_ His voice was tinny with the distance. Interference occasionally broke his image up. _"Rodney."_

"Sheppard." McKay echoed in the same tone.

"_How's the situation?"_ He asked casually. Too casually.

"Oh, just Ancients and space pirates. Nothing out of the usual." McKay said flippantly. Sheppard's eyes lit up.

"_Space pirates?"_

"Good lord." Blue muttered, raising her eyebrows. "The facility seems to have been destroyed by either someone with the activation gene who has managed to get their hands on Ancient weaponry, or by a surviving strain of Ancients themself. Blown up some time in the last century even though the facility hasn't been operational for a million years or so."

She could tell by his expression that the Colonel was getting interested.

"_Why blow up something that old?"_

"That, I'm still working on."

"_Well, step it up, McKay! How long do you think the IOA will let you stay there?"_

"Yes, sir." Blue said, with a note of finality. McKay raised a hand like he was about to say something else, then he simply went to join Dr Stark. Blue was about to turn away herself when the Colonel called out to her.

"_Lieutenant Jones."_

She turned cautiously. In that moment he looked so stern and old and serious that she could have been staring at a different person.

_Something's happened to my parents._

"Colonel."

"_Your mother contacted Major Lorne the other day, trying to chase you down."_ The look he gave her said he knew _exactly _why Blue's mum had phoned Evan Lorne when she couldn't find her daughter.

_My little sister's finally wrapped herself around a tree._

"_At 0900 hours Monday morning, there was a drive-by shooting outside a metropolitan police station in Sydney, Australia. It appears that an old friend of yours was the target."_

"Harry?" Blue whispered, horrified.

Sheppard couldn't hold her stare. _"He was the only fatality. I'm sorry."_

Just then, an errant solar flare knocked out communications with Earth. After a moment, sensing its dormancy, the Stargate shut itself down, leaving Blue staring out into nothingness.

...

..

.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: In later years, Einstein **_**did **_**come to believe in Linear Time, where past, present and future existed simultaneously. **

**But **_**I'm **_**only a writer, so don't be surprised if my facts are a bit off. I know they probably are. **

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER

Blue sat DJ down on her parents' lounge. The young man twitched slightly underneath the aggressive spark in her eyes.

"So what can I do for Little Mister Child Prodigy?" She asked, sitting down in her father's favourite blue lounge chair with some of the stitching pulled out. DJ looked around nervously, as though he expected assassins to jump out at him. He opened his mouth and hesitated.

"Listen, kid, I've had a really crap few weeks, so forgive me if I'm a little abrupt. What the _hell _do you want?"

His eyes darted up to her and then back down again.

"A few months ago, I was recruited into a secret organisation." DJ began slowly. Blue frowned. "You see, regularly they monitor... your activity and offworld relations. Our very existence hangs on to... procuring technologies in case of a hostile situation."

Blue sat up a little straighter. "I'm hoping that this is where you tell me you're working for Area 51."

DJ coloured slightly. "My organisation... is called the Trust."

_The Trust! They were shut down years ago! Weren't they?_

"Why the hell did you come here? Why don't you bugger off to one of your Trust buddies?" She hissed, leaning forward in her chair.

"Because I want out!" DJ snapped. "Because something's going down, and you're the only one in the – the Program that wouldn't shoot me the moment I said I was with the Trust!"

"It's considered in bad taste to wear your gun to a funeral." Blue said sharply. _"What's going on?"_

DJ's face hardened. "I want an assurance that the SGC and the IOA will provide me with protection."

The kid had been watching too many spy films. "I don't have that authority, and you know it. If what you're trying to sell me is as good as you seem to think it is, I'll put in a good word with my bosses. Take it or leave it." She folded her arms.

DJ sat silently fuming for a minute and Blue could clearly see the whiny fourteen-year-old lurking behind the mature university-student facade.

"For the last few months, I've been working for a Mr Darwin, under the Senior Partners." He said. "I was working with a group of twenty or so people like... like me."

"Working on what?"

"We were given pieces of it at a time, out of sequence so hopefully none of us would find out what it was that we were manufacturing."

"But you did." Blue guessed. DJ smiled grimly.

"They call it the L-Time Initiative." He said.

"I think I'm going to get a beer." Blue declared suddenly.

That was when the first bullet shattered the window, showing them both with broken glass. Because of Blue's sudden movement, the sniper's shot went wide. Instead of splitting DJ's head open, as originally intended, the bullet thudded against his collarbone.

Something cracked.

DJ cried out, in more shock than pain. Not sure whether the stunt would give her a hole in the back or not, Blue stepped up onto her mother's ornate carved oak coffee table and threw herself at the lounge opposite, throwing DJ and herself to the floor.

There were puffs of stuffing as two more rounds tore through the lining of the bottom of the lounge.

"My folks are _going to kill me_." Blue moaned.

"Never mind them!" DJ's voice had gone comically squeaky. "I have been shot!"

"Then don't make it a second time!" She snapped back. She rose to a crouch and carefully looked around the lounge.

"Where are you going?"

"To get my dad's shotgun. So when the bad guys get in here, we actually stand a chance in hell."

"Good luck with that." DJ said meekly, and Blue could tell by the uncontrollable tremor in his hands that the shock was beginning to set in.

"Hey. Hey! Don't pack it in now, kid."

"Yes, ma'am." He murmured, lucid thought slipping away.

"Crap."

Everything had gone very quiet. Blue dragged the prone figure of DJ into the bathroom and closed the door almost completely behind them.

After a minute she could hear footsteps crunching over the glass, and knew the sniper was reaching for the knob. Blue saw a shadow appear around the doorway, and in one swift movement, she slammed the door on his face.

There was a satisfying crunch as his nose broke, and the assassin wasted a fraction of a second to swear instead of pushing into the room. In that moment of indecisiveness, Blue flung open the door and brought the heel of her hand up against his chin, snapping his head back. She followed through with a punch to the gut, and as he began to crumple, she brought her knee up into the sniper's groin.

It may have been unorthodox, but it gave Blue a certain amount of satisfaction as he keeled over, tears in his eyes.

"Hope you weren't planning on reproducing anytime soon." She quipped.

_I hope Mum and Dad don't pick this moment to walk in._

There was another noise behind her, and Blue whipped her head back so fast her neck hurt. The bullet bored a neat hole in the timber wall, and she winced.

The second shooter had his pistol trained on her. Standing in the hall, there was nothing Blue could possibly shield herself behind. So she slowly raised her hands.

"You're good." He said, an almost admiring tone in his voice.

"I know."

"Get away from the door."

"No."

"We're not here for you." He raised the muzzle of the gun slightly, threateningly. "You can go."

"As soon as he's dead, you're going to kill me anyway." Blue didn't move. She wondered how long the Trust had been monitoring DJ.

"You've got balls, I'll give you that." He congratulated her. And pulled the trigger.

For a fraction of a second, Blue felt strangely insubstantial.

And then she was gone.

She slowly opened her eyes, the assassin's frustrated roar still ringing in her ears.

She was standing in an office. The carpet was a deep blue and there was a large desk and leather seat facing her. Blue turned to look for DJ and saw that there were medics already attending to him, monitoring his vitals. She was ignored as they strapped the teenager to a gurney and wheeled him away.

Blue had blanked. All she could seem to think about was how her parents were going to liquefy her for ruining their house.

"It's good that you could make it, Lieutenant."

Slowly the leather chair spun around, like the villains in old movies. He gave her an immensely satisfied grin. "I've always wanted to do that." He enthused, before walking around the desk to shake her hand. "Brigadier General Jack O'Neill." He introduced himself. "Welcome to the Department of Homeworld Security."

He cocked his head to the side. "You look like you could use coffee."

* * *

Day turned into night turned into day again.

"_Clementine Jones, are you completely insane? Do you have any idea how much you worried me and your father? Bullet holes all over the place, blood on the floor, my lounge _ruined. _And then my darling daughter just up and leaves. No note, no phone call, just gone. I thought you were dead!"_

"Mum, I'm fine." Blue said into the phone.

"_Well, you won't be when I get my hands on you, young lady!"_ Her mother shrieked down the line. And then she went very quiet, as though she had just been struck by a particularly unpleasant thought.

"_It was the same people who murdered Harry, wasn't it?" _She asked fearfully. _"Oh my GOD, girl, what the_ hell_ are you mixed up in now?"_

_If only you knew, Mum._

Someone knocked on the door. "I've got to go now, Mum. I'll... pay for the damages. I will."

"_Clementine-"_

Blue felt like a complete asshole as she hung up on her mother. Sighing, she stood.

General O'Neill was waiting for her.

"We've been monitoring the situation for a while now. The Trust are..." He trailed off, searching for a fitting metaphor. "They're like cockroaches. No matter how many times you stomp on 'em, they just get back up and keep on eating your cereal. We've had tabs on the kid for a while now."

"Sir?"

"He thinks he's sneaky." The General elaborated. "Sorry we were late rescuing you. For a while there we didn't know for sure whether _you _were Cooper's target or what the hell was going on. Who would have expected he'd spill the beans so easily?"

"Yes." Blue murmured. "How did you realise that the Trust were operating again, sir?"

Jack held the door open for her.

"Because they're careless. About a year ago, someone tried to remotely hack the SGC's computers. Screwed up Gate travel for a while, but nothing Carter couldn't fix. The Colonel found a... electronic footprint... thingie in the base code, which was the same base code as a server the Trust had been using some time ago."

_That's one hell of a slip up._

"Sir, do you mind me asking why you're being so free with this information?"

"Because Cooper came to you instead of approaching us directly. Which means he felt that he could trust you. And also because I expect you're now a Trust target. I thought you might be interested in helping us to shut down this 'L-Space Initiative'."

The General raised his eyebrows and the two of them walked into the infirmary.

The facility was like every infirmary that Blue had ever been in, walls in soothing pale colours, crisp sterile sheets, and the strong smell of bleach burning in your nostrils.

DJ was awake. And he was cranky.

"I don't have time for this!" He was exclaiming to the woman that was patiently checking his wrappings. "Where is Lieutenant Jones? I need to speak to her immediately!"

"I think I liked you better before puberty hit." Blue interjected into his tirade, and DJ stuttered to a stop.

"Anything wrong with him? Aside from the attitude, I mean."

The short-haired medic bit off a sarcastic reply. "The bullet clipped the collarbone and glanced off. It's a clean shot; nothing was ruptured."

"You were _clipped _and you _fainted_?" Blue demanded.

"It was my first time being shot!" DJ snapped back. "I'm sure that for people of your own unique persuasion, you just dust yourself off and carry on, but my synapses are yet to be dulled by continual exposure to low-level violence!"

_God, it's like McKay all over again._

"I suggest you start talking very quickly." O'Neill said.

DJ gave Blue a fleeting panicked look. "Don't I get immunity? Protection because I've defected?"

"Kid, you need to lay off the TV."

"DJ, just tell us what's going on. Before someone gets shot."

"I already have!"

"Then don't make it a second time!" Blue snapped. "Start talking!"

DJ pushed himself up on his pillows.

"Have you ever heard of Einstein's theory of linear time?"

Blue and O'Neill's expressions remained unchanged. DJ puffed his cheeks out in exasperation before proceeding to explain.

"It was a theory that Albert Einstein put forward in his later years." Blue could tell by his face that DJ was struggling to dumb down the theory for them. "He... came to believe... that everything existed as an undivided solid reality. That the past, present, and future all existed simultaneously. Not that it's a particularly mainstream idea."

"I thought that Einstein said time was relative." Jack squinted at him.

"Does this actually have a valid point to the conversation?" Blue asked.

"Over the last few years, the Trust has been working on what they believe has the potential to be the greatest weapon Earth will ever possess." DJ said. "They call it the L-Space Initiative. The Senior Partners agreed that the best way to protect Earth would be to compress space/time into singularity. All dimensions superimposed on top of ours would become tangible, allowing threats to be easily eliminated. Time travel would be rendered null and void, cancelling out a threat that _your _people seem particularly enamoured with, General."

For a fraction of a second, the general actually looked guilty.

"Who are the Senior Partners?" Blue asked.

"We don't know. Our orders come through their right hand, Mister Darwin."

"Mr Darwin?" Blue asked sceptically.

DJ bent down to grasp his clothes that had been bagged and placed on the floor by his bed. From his crumpled jacket, he produced a small slip of paper. Blue reached out to take it.

"This was the only thing I was able to take." He said, looking a little shamefaced.

"A gas receipt?" O'Neill raised an eyebrow.

"It was the only thing I could steal that wouldn't be missed."

"Buddy, when it's time to reimburse for travel allowances, I guarantee it'll be missed."

"Still, maybe we can get a positive ID from the handwriting." Blue murmured. She smoothed out the creases in the paper.

She almost dropped the receipt as she stared at the writing. It was dated yesterday. _Charlie Darwin_, the signature read in loopy letters. It practically screamed _I Am An Alias._ But there was something else; the loops on the _a's_ were too tight, and the slant of the _r's _wrong compared to the rest of the signature.

And Blue wondered whether DJ really _had_ managed to swipe the scrap of paper, or whether Mr Darwin himself was leaving a sneaky trail of breadcrumbs for someone to follow in case something went wrong.

_Something's gone wrong._

Only then did she realise that General O'Neill was speaking to her. "Lieutenant?" He scratched the back of his neck like his formal uniform was irritating him. His brows lowered as he watched her for a reaction, or rather, lack of.

"You recognise the handwriting." He stated sternly. "Lieutenant?"

"He-" Uttering that one syllable was painful as her loyalty to the world conflicted with her loyalty to her country.

"Yes?" O'Neill encouraged.

Blue took a breath, and prepared to violate a buttload of national secrecy laws.

"Lieutenant Jones will say nothing else." A voice suddenly snapped across the room. "According to international law, you cannot compel her to speak without convening the agreements between our two countries."

"And you are?" Jack looked vaguely irritated at the interruption.

"This is Australia's representative to the IOA." A breathless airman explained to O'Neill. "And Director-General of Australia's secret service."

Blue was literally struck dumb for several seconds. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak.

And then she exploded.

"Dad? What the _hell_?!"


End file.
